The ground falls away from us, and I gasp in bracing breaths as the landscape turns miniature while we lift higher. Suddenly, a stretch of forest is visible, and I see the lake Mom and Marge like to kayak on. If I follow the roads, I could map my way to Cornfield’s and our little patched-up cottage. Farther off I can pick out the edges of a city. I’m guessing that’s Arlington, where Shawn resides.
George turns the plane and I lose sight of the tight cluster of buildings, instead catching the shadow of far-off mountains.
And in this moment, I realize I’m breathing.
The act is stuttered, slightly erratic, but I’m not hyperventilating. Panic is eclipsed by elation, and I gaze out the window rather than shut my eyes in fear.
“How are you doing, Beth?” George asks. I glance over to find his sunglasses-covered eyes facing me. “Want me to land it?”
Go back down? Stand on the dirt instead of soaring through the air?
“No.” My word is slightly strangled, but the microphone catches it. “I want to keep going.”
He nods and refocuses on the instruments, something intense about his study.
“Is everything okay?” I try to remember what the measures on the instrument panel mean, but lingering anxiety steals all the memories I have of my book learning.
“All good,” he says.
I hesitate, then wave at the instruments. “Could you keep explaining them? I’d like to learn.”
Understatement of the millennium.
I expect hesitation, but just like when we were prepping the plane, George goes through it all.
He points out the attitude indicator that shows the artificial horizon. The air speed indicator, which tells us how fast we are moving through the air. The altimeter, reading out our altitude.
As he speaks, the memories come back to me. The routine before bed where I say the same words to myself. Only, the normally stoic man goes into more detail. He’s in his element, and when I ask clarifying questions, he answers them without hesitation. Speaking more than he ever has in my presence.
Treating me like a person. I could almost believe he’s not a BnB minion.
“Do you want to fly the plane?” George asks.
“Me?” Wow. Wasn’t aware my voice could go that high-pitched.
“Yeah.” He dips his chin toward the controls. “Try it out.” When I hesitate, his voice comes again. “I’m right here.”
“I guess we know that if everything goes wrong you can still save us.” I try for a teasing smile, but the stretch of my lips feels more like a grimace.
“It won’t go wrong,” he says. “But yeah.”
My snort doesn’t make it to the microphone, which I’m glad about. Reaching out hands with fingers that still shake, I take a firm grip of the yoke.
What’s so surprising is how responsive the plane is. Just a gentle press to the left or the right has a wing dipping in a turn. Pull back a touch, and the windshield goes solid blue. Push forward a smidge, and I gasp at the overwhelming view I have of the world beneath us.
“Sometimes the things you love are scary.”
I’m absolutely terrified.
But I’m also in love.
“Let me know if you want me to take control.” George’s voice pulls my attention his way, and I’m surprised to find the sight of him is a touch blurry.
Quickly I reach up to rub the moisture away from my eyes.
“I’m good,” I tell him. “Just a little longer.”
Time passes too fast, George taking over only when he says we need to return. I don’t know how to navigate us back to the airport, but I still ache when I give over control, my fingers flexing in my lap.
